


Blind Spots

by OnYourMark



Category: White Collar
Genre: Consensual Infidelity, F/M, Masturbation, Open Marriage, Other, Voyeurism, nonconsensual voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnYourMark/pseuds/OnYourMark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal shouldn't watch. On the other hand, Peter and Sara shouldn't be making out in the conference room, even if they do have Elizabeth's permission. (Set during S2, Unfinished Business.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Spots

It was wrong, and Neal knew that from the beginning, but -- well, he was someone who did wrong things. Sara admittedly had him off his game, or he never would have even thought of it.

But there was no way Sara Ellis came back into his life without bringing her file on him along, and Neal just wanted a peek. Just to see what she knew. He could move silently, and he'd get into the conference room where she was sleeping and get his file and get out without even waking her. She'd had a long day, he was sure she was asleep by now.

The layout of the FBI office was one of the first things Neal had investigated and memorized: when the lights went out, where the cameras were, what the janitorial staff's schedule was. He was almost all the way to the conference room when he saw it -- Sara and Peter, both seated at the conference table, talking and paging through a file. Probably his, dammit. Before he could be seen, he darted into Peter's office, careful to lift the knob when he opened the door to keep it from squeaking.

One of the many things Neal had learned was that, in the darkness, the slightly-tinted glass of Peter's office became almost opaque from the other side. He could see them; if he kept reasonably still, nobody in there could see him. And right here, pressed up against Peter's office door, the cameras couldn't see him either. He could stop here, catch his breath, and then go on his way. There would be other times he could try for a look at his file.

He shouldn't stay. He really shouldn't. But vanity compelled him. What if they were talking about him?

He pressed an ear to the little gap in the door from Peter's office to the conference room.

"...really get some rest," Peter was saying, in that aggravatingly wise way he had (it was worse because he was always right). "You look tense. Bed will help."

He heard Sara laugh, saw her toss her hair. "Was that a line, Peter Burke?"

"Was -- no!" Peter said, and Neal swallowed a chuckle. _Sara, you are barking up the wrong tree._ "Unless that'd help you relax -- "

Neal was sure he'd heard wrong until Sara said, "You're pretty sure of yourself."

"No, I didn't mean -- " Peter started, and Neal heard Sara laugh again. "You're teasing me," Peter accused.

"It's just so much fun. God, you're even worse at flirting now than you were five years ago," Sara informed him. Neal gaped as she ran a hand up his arm, and Peter leaned into it, bowing his head so it was near hers. "You and Elizabeth still okay with...?"

"Yeah. We don't do it as much as we used to. We've hit that place, you know, where it's more trouble than it's worth, most of the time," Peter said. Neal suspected he was missing a nuance. He thought he knew what it might be, but the idea was almost absurd.

"Do you want to?" Sara asked, and Peter nodded. "You need to call El?"

"I don't want to wake her," Peter answered. "I'll tell her tomorrow. She'll understand -- we talked a little, earlier."

"I'd like it," Sara said, almost too soft for Neal to catch. "One problem, though. The walls have eyes."

Neal thought for a second she'd seen him, somehow -- in a reflection, maybe -- but Peter responded calmly.

"There's a blind spot," he said. "About two feet in front of us and for the rest of the room. And there's no sound on FBI security footage."

Neal knew about that blind spot. If you wanted to pick a Fed's pocket, the far end of the conference room was a good place to do it. It was, incidentally, where Sara's bed had been placed, probably in a fit of thoughtfulness by Jones.

He watched, torn between horror and fascination, as Sara got up and walked to the pallet, settling down on the edge. Peter delayed a little while, picking up a file and skimming through it, before he casually walked away too, into the blind spot. He set the file aside, knelt down in front of her, and rested his hands on her legs, running them up the outside of her thighs until he hooked his fingers in the jeans she was wearing and pulled them down, pulled them off. She eased back on her elbows as Peter settled between her legs, bending to kiss her navel.

Neal consciously silenced his breathing -- it was speeding up, watching Peter work his way down to her cunt, the movements of his head unmistakable. Sara tilted her head back and moaned, hooking one leg over Peter's shoulder. No foreplay for Peter Burke and Sara Ellis, apparently.

"God -- you're even better than I remember," Sara groaned, hips hitching against Peter's mouth. Neal knew he should quietly creep away, leave them to their apparently Elizabeth-sanctioned fun, but he was already in for a penny. Might as well go for the whole pound.

Sara was hot -- he knew under that poised exterior she was probably kind of wild -- and she was vocal, filthy really, telling Peter exactly how much she liked his tongue, liked him going down on her. Neal listened and watched the ripple of Peter's shoulders under his shirt, which was hot too.

His hand slid down the front of his pants. He just meant to adjust himself (who wouldn't get hard watching Sara Ellis, breasts bouncing every time she moved, teeth worrying her lower lip). Instead he found himself rubbing the heel of his hand against his erection, the pressure a tease and a relief at the same time.

What would be the harm? They couldn't see him, and he could be discreet about this. If they were going to have sex in a semi-public place, they might expect someone could be watching. The idea probably made Peter hot. Secret exhibitionist, Neal had diagnosed that from the start. Anyone who liked to make an entrance as much as Peter did couldn't possibly be content unless they got to show off once in a while.

Neal unbuckled his belt carefully while Sara writhed against Peter and Peter pushed her shirt higher, up over her ribcage, one hand cupping her breast. He pinched her nipple and she cried out; Neal undid his fly.

"Peter, stop, wait, I'm gonna..." she started, wriggling away. Peter let her go, let her pull off her shirt completely and stretch out on the bed while he stayed kneeling next to it, fully-dressed. It was like _Venus of Urbino_ , the woman reclined nude in the foreground, servants nearby. Neal ran a hand down his stomach, fingers wrapping loosely around his dick.

Peter leaned up to kiss her and he could see a smug grin on his face, like he'd solved an especially difficult case. Neal watched Sara pull his tie off and open his shirt; Peter shrugged out of it and the white tee underneath, crawling up onto the bed to straddle her, sucking the same nipple he'd pinched into his mouth. Sara clutched at his hair and arched. Neal's head spun.

Sara wrapped her legs around his hips and Peter -- who didn't even have his belt off -- humped against her, trousers dark against her pale skin. Neal tugged on his cock, fingers and fabric both rubbing against him. Sara still had her shoes on, the heels digging into Peter's thighs.

"Fuck, I couldn't stop thinking about it," Sara said, while Peter reached between them, not for his belt but to shove his fingers inside her. Sara arched again, scrambling to get his buckle undone. "I saw you again and I got so wet..."

"Did you think we'd get the chance?" Peter asked, rolling his hips to get his pants down.

"I was hoping -- " she broke off on a cry as Peter's hand twisted between them.

With a startling, dizzy revelation, Neal realized they were discussing another time they'd worked together. His case. While Peter had been chasing him down and Sara had been investigating the theft of the Raphael, they'd been fucking. Peter had fucked Sara before. Probably over Neal's casefile, and Neal shoved the edge of his free hand into his mouth to stop himself groaning out loud. He jerked faster, watching Sara help Peter get his pants down around his thighs. She grabbed Peter's erection, playful, and Neal bit down on his hand as Peter fucked into her grip, eyes closing, a drawn-out moan the first uninhibited noise Neal had heard from him.

"You want to play?" Sara asked. Neal wondered what in God's name they'd done last time.

"No," Peter said -- honest Peter -- and Sara laughed. "I'd like to screw your brains out, mostly."

"Someone's been teaching you dirty talk," Sara said. She leaned up and whispered in Peter's ear, too soft to hear, but Neal didn't need to; he could see her lips move. _Was it Neal?_

"Nh -- no," Peter said, but Neal saw the way his body jerked against her. Neal gripped his cock tightly to keep from coming right there. If he was going to enjoy this private show, it was only fair that he hold off until they were ready.

"Condom?" she asked, which helped. Neal got his breathing under control again while Peter fumbled in his pocket for his wallet (he must have just put a condom in there, because Neal picked his pocket on a regular basis and had _never_ found a condom there before) and produced a foil packet.

Sara obligingly rolled it on, rocked her hips up, and pulled Peter down, swearing when he slid all the way in.

"Go easy," she breathed. "You're big -- "

"You're tight," Peter said, and he did blush when he said it, but Neal saw that he slowed the buck of his hips, too.

"You like that though," Sara said, sliding her hands down Peter's chest as he propped himself up over her. "You do, don't you? Like fucking me, Peter?"

"Yeah," Peter grunted, one hand dropping to her hip to pin her down.

"You like going home, telling your wife about how you fucked me?" Sara groaned. Neal, still gripping his cock, ran his thumb over the head, teasingly. "Does that get her hot, too?"

Peter grunted by way of reply, picking up a steady rhythm now, Sara's words fading into incoherence as they moved. Neal kept teasing himself, trying to be patient, to wait for them, and Sara didn't sound like she was going to make him wait long. Peter kissed her, bit her lip, her shoulder, her breast; Sara's cries got breathy and fast and Neal watched her shudder as she came, hips rocking against Peter's, eyes closed, one peaked nipple still in his mouth. Neal stopped being patient and started rubbing his dick again, watching Peter's thrusts go jerky and uneven. Peter came with a long drawn-out moan, and Neal came spectacularly in his pants.

He saw, through a haze of afterglow, Peter pull out and roll onto his back, chest heaving, dick softening between his thighs; he leaned up and tossed the condom in the conference room trash can before settling again. Sara wriggled all over and sighed happily.

"I do feel much more relaxed now," she said. Neal could understand the feeling.

"I try my best," Peter answered. He started to tug up the waistband of his underwear. Sara ran a finger down his chest, affectionate.

"You and El and I should do dinner," she said. "I don't know, is she into women?"

Neal just about came a second time, picturing it. _Peter, you dog._

"Sometimes. You get to bring it up, though. I don't want her to assume it was my idea," Peter said.

"Aw, do you have a thing for girls going at it?" Sara laughed.

"Like you're surprised?" Peter asked.

"Not really." Sara sat up and began pulling her pants back on. Peter picked up his shirt, searching around for his tie before Sara handed it to him. Neal carefully took his hand out of his pants (probably more than a little ruined) and started planning his escape route. The last thing he heard as he slipped out silently was Peter asking, "Presentable?" and Sara replying, "How recently-fucked do I look?"

He had to carry his coat in front of him once he got to the street, and the cab ride home was a little...damp, but Neal counted the night as a triumph.

If nothing else, someday he could spring this knowledge on Peter and the look on his face would be _priceless._

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kinkmeme, [prompt:](http://collarkink.livejournal.com/1682.html?thread=2856850#t2856850) Peter and Sara fucked the night Sara was in protective custody in the FBI. Neal accidentally saw, and then 'accidentally' stayed, and 'accidentally' jerked off as he watched. (You should check out the prompt if you liked this story, there's another fill there as well.)


End file.
